


Kingdom

by ShunRenDan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Epilogue, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, facesitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunRenDan/pseuds/ShunRenDan
Summary: He was not the ghosts of her past, determined only to use her. Nor was he a fickle soul, who would one day leave. He was a braveheart, a star plucked from the sky purely to warm her soul. So long as she could hold him and relish the moments between, she was content with whatever fate they dared share. The gesture of what he had done was not lost on her, even if it begat nothing.





	Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Things get a little rougher than intended.

Stones, flesh, and stars: the sort of corporeal things that a body could reach for and touch to confirm — those were the realities and myriad desires that man shaped his life by. Riku was no exception to that rule, and those things, in no particular order, lingered on his mind when they had no right to.

Braveheart bisected a line of mottled, black soldiers and reduced them to a pool of the amalgam darkness they came from. Scratches littered its dimpled teeth and the arms of its wielder alike, haphazardly etched into both flesh and steel like knit lines. His jacket was covered in similar looking marks, its sleeves frayed, and his hair was disheveled. Sweat clung to him as he drew to full height, no longer surrounded by the little, writhing monsters that plagued Radiant Garden's outermost walls.

There were any number of the little monsters roaming around outside of the city, determined to find breaks in the bastion's defenses. Part of him felt guilty for it; they were, after all, following the light he put off. At least, some of them were.

Others were there for Naminé, and the light that burned so fiercely in her heart that it couldn't help but brighten his every time he thought of her.

That was why he was working so hard to track down the source of the little darknesses that plagued the town. Reports from Leon and Cloud indicated that there was a demontide waiting somewhere in the forests, and that the monsters gathering in the shadows would soon be festering around it like bacteria in an open wound. He refused to let that sort of evil anywhere near her, anywhere near the people she loved, or anywhere near the innocent people that surrounded her.

Even if she'd been hard to reach lately, flightier, and more frazzled than usual, she was still his and it was going to be hard to express that if she got caught on her way through town square by a horde of forsaken monstrosities.

He pressed on deeper into the forests, carving his way through footpath after footpath. The woods had grown dark and deep in the days since Naminé's arrival, raised by Ansem and his followers. Now, pines that should have been ancient were splattered across the muddy, no-longer purple canvas of the ridges he once knew. Every so often, little critters poked out of their hiding spots to get a look at him, their curiosity piqued by the well-lit heart that roamed their lands.

Darkness once again bloomed against the borders of a river about a mile north of the city's furthest wall, and Riku bore down on it like a man possessed. Neoshadows rose like reeds from the water, their glittering eyes reflected in its surface. Riku frowned and leveled his weapon in their direction from his vantage point on a small, root-covered coast.

Black light exploded from the tip of his keyblade to consume the horde of shadows in a gargantuan explosion. The earth beneath his feet shook and streamers of dark fire rained into the water, dissipating into a cloud of steam that spread like fog over the crossing. Exhaling sharply and finally feeling the fatigue in his bones, Riku ventured onward across the water for another quarter mile.

He valued stone enough that he would protect it, and he came from the stars. Those two things were not, however, his primary concern.

At the end of the day, it was difficult to enjoy his relationship with Naminé once he was forced to face how little he got to see of her.

It wasn't her fault.

His duties kept him just as busy as hers did. Protecting the city wasn't easy when half of the guard was still training to deal with heartless. Half of his day was broken up into a series of patrols like the one he now found himself on; the rest was splintered between training those guards and dealing with Ansem the Wise. Riku didn't hold a grudge, but dealing with the man still left him uncomfortable.

The thought that he was constantly around Naminé didn't help things much. Riku wasn't jealous, not of an old man who saw her as his daughter, but he knew how little she liked him and how strange it must have been for her to serve his greater good. He knew things about Ansem that the people beneath him never would, and that knowledge was more a burden than a gift.

What he wanted was her touch, to feel the round of her cheeks beneath his fingers and to lean into her when the night got too loud to handle. Without her, his bed felt like a sea of static, and his sheets were cold weights.

It was weird, how quickly he'd acclimated to her presence beside him at night, and how much he missed it on the nights where she couldn't join him. He was not affectionate in the day, or overly doting. He didn't shower her with praise, and he would have felt unnerved if she did either of those things to him in return. Their love was simple and doubtless, which made the woes of their time all the more frustrating.

If he could just track down the source of the darkness plaguing the city…

The evening set in before he knew it, the dark footpaths of the forest leading him to a cave he didn't recognize. It would have once been a violet crevasse, carved into the side of the valley that surrounded Radiant Garden. Riku pressed through the dark in pursuit of the demons he needed to slay, blazing a trail across a cacophony of lesser shadows that posed him no trouble.

At the end of his would-be maze, he came to a wide cavern, where the cool, damp ground evened out into the shore of a small lake. Its waters were dark and deep, and he knew his prey lurked there. Fingers taut around Braveheart’s hilt, Riku inhaled and readied himself for the battle to come.

And then in the next moment, it was all gone, wiped away by a blur of darkness and fever that he couldn’t wade through. The dark walls of the cave were steamed away until he found himself staring up at the freckles in his ceiling. The cramped interior he remembered passing through was likewise missing, supplanted by the emptiness of his chambers, where white and purple banners hung like streamers over the walls.

Outside, it was still dark, but a careful breeze overthrew the dank cave air. He could breathe again, and as he heaved his body upward, he realized that wasn’t a sort of mercy. An immediate, stinging pain gripped his torso. Looking down, he found a litany of cuts sprinkled over his skin, little signals that his memory was to be believed. His fingertips fell to the highest cut, and it was out of the corner of his eye that he spotted a shock of golden hair strewn over the edge of his bed.

Naminé was there, her head in her arms, her lips peacefully split. Riku’s brow furrowed at once, but he said nothing of it, letting a hand fall to her hair and rest in it. She nodded in solemn response, nuzzling into the gesture as if it might bring her something more than security. It was strange to see her asleep, after their time apart, strange to see her at his bedside — and yet he didn’t find fault in that.

Instead, all he could feel was a deep, painful shame. It resonated in his wounds and called to him as he studied her in her sleep, his back resting once again on the pillows he’d been propped up on.

Riku stayed like that, stroking her hair, for what felt like an eternity. It was nice to see her relaxed, and even if she was going to be angry with him when she woke up, he couldn’t shake that feeling. Something about seeing her with her guard down filled him with a warmth that he never could have put words to; it was as if she were letting him in on a little, private secret, one that only the two of them could share.

How many could lay claim to having seen the serene princess of Radiant Garden drool all over her pillow?

After a time, he removed his hand and threw both legs over the bed, struggling his way to the balcony. His legs felt weak and his arms were still sore, but the stars were still bright and the breeze invigorating.

It was his retreat that woke her.

She stirred at his bedside, eyes raising slow to the point she remembered watching him — and then drifting lazily toward the balcony, where his bare back faced her and his head was tilted toward the stars. She studied the point he stood vigil for, noted its location in the sky, and rose to approach him from behind.

If he sensed her coming, he didn’t react until her fingers blessed his lower back. It was then that Riku turned, and she greeted him by burying her face in the flat of his shoulders and wrapping her arms around him. He blanched at first, hands sinking to find her wrists as they folded around his waist. If he intended to pull her away, he thought better of it, letting his thumb pirouette on the back of her palm.

For some time, neither of them said anything. He didn’t know what she knew and she didn’t know what he felt, and for the first time, they could both feel the distant growing between them like a field of weeds. Both stood on the far end, peering out over the expanse into each other’s hearts, hoping that their touch might bring them closer.

Riku’s thumb paused, and he considered the magnetism that tethered them. She was the sort of classical beauty that led brave men to die in the pursuit of her glory, and he was just the sort of stupid, brave fool who would dare risk that. But that wasn’t what she wanted, and that wasn’t the sort of man he needed to be.

What she wanted was someone to lean on, as she did in that moment, who would be there for her when there was no one else to turn to. Naminé did not need a frontman; she needed a foundation, who would serve as the earth beneath her feet and elevate her to the heights she would one day reach.

Part of him felt selfish for not realizing that, and part of him felt at a loss for how to be that man.

“I’m sorry,” he announced, as if she held the key to his thoughts and could read them. “I should have been more careful.”

“It’s alright.”

Her voice was so low and so quiet that he couldn’t bring himself to believe her. Her arms tightened around his waist and he let out a slow, steadying breath. The stinging pain in his arms didn’t abate until she spoke again, whispering her words into his back.

“Will you come back to bed?”

Riku took one last look up at the sky and did as he was asked, well aware that the view from their sheets would far surpass the best the night had to offer. She led the way, wiping her eyes of the fatigue that still clung to her, and the two of them sank into bed as if it were the first time. She stayed distant at first, rolling onto her side, and this time he found it in himself to pull her close.

She rolled into him, face braced against the crook of his neck, and he wondered why she bothered to sleep in a dress to begin with. He kissed her forehead in lieu of asking, afraid to break the tenuous silence that breathed in the space between words. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was displeased with him, or that he was displeased with himself.

“I love you, you know,” she whispered, her lips humming against his skin. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know.”

“Do you love me?”

“I do,” he answered. “I don’t think I could love anyone else.”

She kissed his skin and Riku felt his wounds dissolve. With his arms wrapped around her, none of the pain mattered. He still smelled faintly of sweat, but she smelled like citrus and fresh linens and something vaguely cosmic that he couldn’t put into words. It was sweet, nostalgic, and it reminded him of home.

After a moment, he recognized it as paopu, and that led him to kiss her forehead again. Maybe she hadn’t procured the scent for him. Maybe it was for herself, to satisfy some strange, human urge. But in the moment, he didn’t care. It reminded him of home and the thought of it led him to her without fail.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he said.

“You already apologized.”

“I know.”

The light from the stars outside bathed the balcony and the borders of their bed in a dim, azure light, and he swore that she looked underwater beneath its glow. Her hair spilled out onto the pillows and sheets beneath her like golden ink, and stars glimmered in her eyes when she looked up to him from his chest, face full of a quiet curiosity that he knew found home in her as much as he did.

Riku took her lips with his and relished in the way kissing her felt like sealing an ancient pact. She brought a hand to his face, pulled away, and frowned, looking serious.

“I really did miss you.”

“I know that,” he answered.

His lips trailed down, peppering in small, brushfire kisses against the curvature of her jaw and the path of her neck. He led them to her clavicle, pressed flesh to bone, and closed his eyes when she gasped. She lifted her hands to push him away, bracing them against his shoulders, but didn’t. Instead, she let him shower her in his affections, placing fragile kiss after fragile kiss against the outline of her shoulders and the base of her neck.

Each one led her heart to beat just a little faster, until finally she pulled him close and buried his head in the modesty of her chest. He paused then, unable to look up while she held him, and listened to the beating of her heart.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered. “I have to be awake early.”

“Then you should sleep.”

After a beat, he noted that her heart still thrummed in her chest like a triggered alarm. He could hear every thump and jump and found it simple to follow the rhythm, as it beat in tandem with the sound thundering between his ears.

“Did you miss me too?” She asked.

“I did,” he admitted, pressing his lips to the fabric of her dress. She exhaled sharply, and he did it again, earning a wriggle. “I wish we had more time together. During the day.”

“I’ll find the time to see you,” she began, breath hitched in her throat. The beautiful boy buried against her made it hard for her to speak. “If you find the time to see me?”

Riku rose, placing her chin between his thumb and forefinger so that she was forced to look him in the eye. She shook, suddenly deigned to confront the distance that bloomed between them and close it. The burden of her love was one he found himself always willing to accept, and she steadied when she saw that in his gaze.

“Consider me your timekeeper,” he said.

And then he kissed her again.

She didn’t know whose tongue slipped first, or who broke the pact between them. It could have been her, desperate and hungry for the man who brought her to the place she belonged, or it could have been him — eager to seal their promise with some more physical signal.

Her hands rose to his face, but he peeled them away, pinning them to the pillows and bringing his lips to her ear as he rolled her over. She tried to wriggle away, but his grip was too firm, and as she struggled, he nibbled gently at her earlobe, sending a river of heat coursing through her body like magma. It was one of her many sunspots, the little, almost imaginary points that didn’t exist in the light of day — and he knew where to find all of them, for better or worse.

She let free a pained moan, prompting his mouth to dip to her neck, bear down, and pull free to produce another. Breath by breath, he heard her fall into rhythm, holding back the sound of her gasps as best she could.

“There are guards outside,” she whispered, wishing she could muffle herself with a hand.

“So?”

“They’ll hear,” she pleaded, looking to Riku as if he might acquiesce.

“Let them,” he growled.

She gasped when his legs bore down on either side of her hips, forcing his weight down on top of her. She could feel the heat coming off of his skin in waves, melting her. Something about the way he was so determined to take control of them both in that moment left her wanting, and she couldn’t help but pause when he combined both of her wrists beneath just one hand. Even wounded, he was still far stronger than her, not that she wanted to flee.

Part of that primal fear left her hungrier than before, and she yearned for the moments where his lips crashed against her neck and brushed against her clavicle, as if bestowing a little of his strength unto her with each blessing.

A moan tumbled free of her lips, her face went red, and she thought of what the guards on the other side of the door must have been imagining. Did they know that she was trying to hold herself back?

Or did they think her shameless?

The moment Riku’s fingers left her wrists, she realized she didn’t care. She wanted him as badly as he did her, and nothing else mattered. While he clambered off of her, she rolled out of the bed and discarded her dress like wrapping paper. It waited on the floor while she rejoined him, pale and naked in the blue light of the bedroom, and said nothing while she climbed on top of him.

His hands roamed the borders of her sides and played around her hips, fingers dug into the hem of her white panties and she blushed when he brought his hands to her face instead. She could feel the outline of his manhood through the fabric of his boxers; pure heat, it waited for her, and she wondered if he expected her to take the initiative.

Usually, it was his job to do that — to lead them forward.

In lieu of his guidance, she did her best, kissing at the base of his neck and letting her fingers dance across the flat of his stomach. She ran them over the scrapes and cuts that littered his chest, let them bless the bruises that waited along his arm like sandbars in seawater. He looked so fragile, despite the strength she knew he held. He had slain the demon tide, for her, and despite how archaic it was… she couldn’t help but admire the effort.

“I love you,” she whispered, drinking him in.

She pressed her lips to his chest, leading a trail down to his stomach. Fingers played with the band of his boxers, teasing him for what was to come. Riku wriggled beneath her, and when she went to take them from his waist he stopped her hands with his.

“I love you too, but that’s not what I want,” he explained.

“Not what you…?”

“I want you.”

Naminé turned bright red.

She wasn’t sure what he meant, and when he saw that in her face, he pushed her over. She propped herself up onto her elbows and he crawled between her legs, spreading her thighs with his rough, calloused hands. She let her head loll back and her hands flocked to her face, covering the blush that spread across her cheeks while he reached for the hem of her panties. She hadn’t expected him to be so sudden, so forward, and she hadn’t been expecting to do anything that required her to…

When he pulled them down, she expected him to flinch away, to balk in some regard, to — to say something about the tuft of blonde hair that waited for him.

He pressed his lips to it, whispered something she couldn’t hear, and silenced any thought of rejection with a long, drawn out slash of the tongue that quelled her. She let out another moan, now ignorant of the guards outside, and let her fingers wrap themselves up in the silver of his hair while he worshiped her.

Every brush of the tongue brought with it a wave of undeniable heat.

Fingers dug into the soft of her thighs like brands, leaving behind little pockets of fire that lingered long after every shift. She panted in response, wrapping her legs around his head as if they might somehow stave him off, prevent him from seeing her as she came undone.

And yet, she wanted him to see.

She wanted him to see her, to cleanse her of the sweat that now rolled down her forehead and kept her hair matted. She wanted him to see her as she was in every moment, whether her head rested on his shoulders or over the ledge of his bed. Perhaps she was just pent up, or perhaps she needed him more than she knew, but every brush of his tongue against her only stoked that desire.

Naminé writhed beneath his tongue, worked into frustration by how slowly he was moving. It was like he was — like he was trying to tease her, even though he knew how badly she must have needed the release. He was not the only one who had missed sharing the night together, and she looked down at him to declare that when she felt a finger tap against her entrance.

Her head rocked back again when he pushed inside of her, suddenly picking up the pace, as if he had somehow latched onto her need.

She whimpered and gripped his hair tighter, raising her hips against his face and bucking against his tongue as if it might bring her closer to relief. She could feel herself coming to the brink, worked to the point of no return by his tongue and the skillful ministrations of his fingers, and she moaned outright when the tension became too much to bear.

It was looking down at him, savoring the way his face looked pressed against her sex that drove her over the edge.

She came without reservation, gasping and shivering as all of the tension in her body suddenly unwound itself. Riku let out a muffled sound between her legs, and it was only then that she realized she was thrusting up into him again, determined to bring him closer to her in her moment of completion.

Before she could catch her breath, strong hands grasped her by the thighs and swung her upwards. She felt his wet warmth press against the heart of her femininity, and she gripped tightly to the headboard as pleasure flowed through her, as swift as a coursing river. There was a dam building within her and Riku was making no efforts to stop it; it only encouraged the build-up of pressure between her legs.

Riku could still feel her legs shaking, her entire body exhausted from the way it came unwound. Her fingers fumbled in his hair and he held her down on top of him, relishing in the way she squirmed. There was some strange, simple pleasure in the knowledge that he was driving her to gasp, to plead, to hope for relief all over again — as if the cyclical nature of their nightly intermissions were simply wells of gravity, and her every breath a vaulted star.

They’d been apart for so long that neither of them were willing to accept half measures. He needed to see her at her most bare, and she needed to be exposed, tired of the way she presented herself in the day. In the castle, there were so many obligations, so many pressures and frustrations; in the night, only the two of them were real, accompanied by a symphony of touches and teases that left them hungry for their next meeting.

Naminé begged for him – or rather, her body did. He gave her what she needed, what they both needed.

Her hips began to move lightly at first, then desperate for more.

The reaction was instantaneous. Every sway of her hips left him desperate for more, eager to solicit a reaction from the normally passive girl atop him.

Given the chance to cut loose, Naminé lost the ability to stop herself. The moans came more freely, and her hands reached for the headboard of his bed while her hips ground again and again against his face. She called his name as sweat beaded against her forehead, over her hips, the crease of her knees. The dignified woman he knew was gone, replaced by her need.

Every lick of the tongue sent a new shiver snaking up her spine and electrified her being. She was a bird on a powerline, brought to life by the way his tongue worked into her soul and the way he growled beneath her.

“Riku,” she breathed, the tension in her body building to another breaking point. She could feel it, like an itch, present in her nethers, her heart, her brain, and her extremities; his attention was a fire and her entire body a forest. He would raze it all to see her reduced to ash, and she desired nothing more than to burn.

They burnt paradise down together when she came again, crying his name for the heavens to hear. Her fingers found his hair and she lurched forward in the moment, the muscles in her stomach spasming out of control, her legs now weaker than ever. She couldn’t feel her ankles anymore, and every muscle in her body felt driven to exhaustion.

And yet, as she labored for breath, she knew she wanted more. In that moment, she understood what he meant: he wanted her, she wanted him, and there was nothing else in the world that she deigned care for.

She lifted herself up and he helped her ease backward onto the bed, lips assailing her neck and chest. As her shoulders hit the bedding, he fit his mouth to hers, face still slick and she nearly blanched away — but she couldn’t turn away from him, not when their lips were such perfectly fit puzzle pieces.

He whispered something into her skin, and Naminé looked up at him, her lips parted, hair wild around her face. When he repeated himself, it was still hard to hear, as if the world were reduced to static in the wake of what they’d done.

“Naminé,” he said her name.

She nodded.

He spread her thighs apart with his hands, and she arched her back just a touch in response. Her muscles still shook, but she understood now what he wanted. He placed himself at her entrance, manhood stiff, eyes trained on hers as if she were the only thing that mattered. Her hands rose, running along his chest. She didn’t remember the moment his boxers came off, but she was loathe to deny herself the chance to drink him in.

Riku was handsome, he was gentle, but he was also coarse; muscles and battlescars were wound tight across his body, the macabre residue of wars long won. Her index fingers traced along a particularly grim wound, one that ran like fresh blood across both pectorals, and her stomach knotted at the feeling of just how much heat rolled off of him.

He was not a matchstick, but the sun rendered in the shape of a mortal man.

And he would take her like the summer did the spring.

She looped her arms around his neck when he pushed inside of her, her eyes closing for just a moment at the feeling. It would never be familiar, but that was what made it so exciting. His hands buried in the sheets beneath her, she rutted against him while he acclimated, desperate for more. Every fledgeling thrust scratched the itch that burgeoned inside of her, granted her more of the feeling she once thought she’d lost.

His roughness was different from the way she remembered.

It was more primal, reminiscent of nights in stark white castles, not the tender mornings she treated herself to in private.

She loved it all the same.

She gasped, shuddered, and rattled when his lips crashed against hers. One hand held him aloft over her, and one pinned her face between his thumb and forefinger. Her fingers curled against his neck and then sank to the column of his throat when he delivered unto her a particularly vicious thrust. She pried her lips away from his and whimpered, enthralled by the color.

Before she could say anything, the hand on her face sank lower and he braced his thumb against her jewel. Every hip-stroke from that point on rendered her mute, and her eyes closed hard in response. She couldn’t look at him as she grew closer again, not for a third time. There was a limit to her shame and she would not be an animal to him—

“Naminé,” he repeated.

She opened her eyes, latched onto his and the desire there, and knew at once that she was lying to herself.

“Riku,” she choked in return, her heart in her throat. She knew what he wanted. She could tell from the way he said her name, the rhythm of his hips, and the slick of the sweat against his forehead. Still, she looked up at him, waiting for him to say it so that they could both live again and that the vulgarity of her words wouldn’t be meaningless.

“Tell me.”

His head lowered, sinking to the space beside hers, and she wrapped her arms around him. Fingers ran like paint through his hair, and she brought her lips to his ear.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, voice low. Harried by the moment and the pleasure that stole the air from her lungs, she begged him. “I want you to take me, Riku.”

“Please,” she continued. “I want you to fuck me.”

The hand that kept him steady on the bed moved. He placed it at her throat and pushed himself up, pressing her into the sheets and arching her back further. She gasped, once, and his thrusts intensified.

“More,” she moaned.

Riku melted in response, grunting and nearly buckling.

“Pleaseplease,” she managed, pulling his head down so that their foreheads were touching. His hips picked up their pace, bucking forcefully into her as if… as if there were a point, as if their shared intermissions could produce something other than the spark of feeling that now burst into flame between them.

She could feel the warmth of his cock inside of her, hear the hammering of her heart in her ears. His fingers at her throat were rough and calloused, but more gentle than she could describe, as if he were afraid to hurt her despite her plea for more. She gripped his wrist with her fingers, and he tightened his hold just enough that she felt ice spreading through her.

And it was only then that she felt the tension in her again, somehow returned, as if their distance had left her more sensitive than before. Three times was not…

It was not normal, and he’d yet to—

“Riku, please,” she pleaded, breath thin, eyes locked on his when he leveled his gaze against her face. Peering into his eyes, it was hard to believe she’d ever wanted anything ever than him.

“Naminé, I’m going to—”

“Do it, please,” she commanded, breathless.

He did.

She saw stars and peonies, the color white, and when she opened her eyes, she could feel his warmth inside of her. His breathing was hoarse and labored, and both arms were now folded into the bed around her as if he’d been rendered powerless. The strongest man she knew breathed heavy into her neck, and she cradled him there, pleased by the knowledge that he was now sated.

When he pulled himself out of her, that warmth still lingered, and she knew at once that he hadn’t deigned hold himself back. Before he could say anything, she wrapped her arms around the crook of his neck, pressed her lips to the crown of his head, and held him tight.

He was not the ghosts of her past, determined only to use her. Nor was he a fickle soul, who would one day leave. He was a braveheart, a star plucked from the sky purely to warm her soul. So long as she could hold him and relish the moments between, she was content with whatever fate they dared share. The gesture of what he had done was not lost on her, even if it begat nothing.

She pledged a sea of kisses to his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear while he gathered his breath. In the moments after, his wounds were still there, their existence no longer abated by the pleasure she brought him. She imagined it hurt, and that he would regret their interpolation in the morning.

“I love you,” he whispered into her shoulder, breaths falling short.

“I love you too,” she affirmed, pushing him up so that he was forced to face her yet again. She rested a hand on his face, stroked the curvature of his jaw, and pressed her lips to his. “More than you know.”

Riku said nothing at first.

“I want you to prove it,” he declared, voice steadier than it was a moment ago.

Naminé’s eyes searched his for an answer.

“How?”

“Marry me.”

She choked, but didn’t say no.

**Author's Note:**

> And so, the conclusion to my Namiku trilogy. Not sure what's up next. Hope it was an enjoyable journey. If you liked Kingdom, but haven't read Interpolation or Array, I would suggest doing so.


End file.
